So Long, Farewell, auf Wiedersehen, Good Night...

We are hardly the von Trapp family singers (unless you count our very harmonious renditions of Elmo's Song), but the sentiment is the same. The kids watched today as our stuff, all bazillion pounds of it, were loaded into eight shipping crates and sent on their way. The house positively echoes and, we all agree, looks considerably smaller empty.

Harry was eager to help the movers and we gave him some things to carry - one of which it turns out was the front page of The Washington Post, so we have inadvertently created our own little time capsule. If our stuff washes up on some remote island, Tom Hanks will have some reading material and I'm sure be very grateful, thought he may be a bit baffled by the photo of Obama playing ping pong).

We are wheels-up on June 5, it seems so soon.

School's Out!

It was Harry's last day of preschool today and we gathered (Charlotte too) for a class pizza party (might have been more excited about said pizza if it weren't a steady part of our 'let's bribe the movers' diet).

It was a special hour with our classmates and teachers, who told me privately how much they've enjoyed watching Harry blossom over this last year. He is particularly fond of Ms. Troxel and has taken to telling her all about the pending move. "There are lots of trains in England I'm going to ride them all," he has reported.

We are very grateful to Emmanuel Preschool and I am sorry Charlotte won't have a chance to attend. Already she feels like a part of the very special scenery.

The Perks

There are several very distinct benefits to moving. Among the best: the movers and the kids are enjoying a bounty of pizza, and of course nothing says 'let's ride our trike inside' like a half-empty house.

I pledge Allegiance

You can keep those stinkin' oranges. I'm officially an Apple girl. Forever. I swear it.

Those understanding, beneficent heroes at the Apple store let me in on a a little known company policy. The first time you stupidly wreck your stuff, they'll replace it.....like....for free. My Genius Bar guide took one look at my trashed iPad, tisked in awe at the level of destruction, and then said "we're going to give you a get out of jail free card."

Huh?

She explained to this stupefied customer and it did indeed sink in: my iPad went sailing down the stairs, absolutely no fault of theirs, and Apple was going to replace it, part of their it's OK, accidents happen, don't punish the customer dogma. So I walked out with a brand, spankin' new machine. For Real.

So from this moment forward I am positively sticking with Apple. Mr. Jobs, you had me at "replace."

Working 9 to 5

It took two teams of movers, one call to our government coordinator to fix a screw-up (not ours) and about nine hours of sorting, schlepping and question answering 'ma'am is this going?' and we are moved out! Well, largely moved out-- the movers, Ron and Sherika (sher-ee-kah), still have two more floors to pack. The van comes on Wednesday for loading. Until we fly on June 5, we're living in Old Town, the guests of my godmother Cynthia and her wonderful husband Al.

It's fair to say that Harry and Charlotte had an entirely better day than their mother and father. I started the morning at 6:30 a.m. by fumbling my one-week-old iPad and it fell not one but two stories down the stairwell, landing on the volume button, effectively destroying it. I thought it portended bad things for the day. But it went rather OK. Draining, sweaty, at times frenzied. But good. As for my glorious new iPad, well, if I had time to cry, I'd positively soak a few hankies. I will let you all know what the geniuses at Apple's Genius Bar have to say tomorrow about my complete lack of geniousness.

The kids, on the other hand, enjoyed a super play date at the Estabrook's, chaperoned by Miss Missy and our life-saver Zaza. They frolicked in the pool and enjoyed a beautiful day away from the moving madness (I had to promise Harry he'd be back in time to help Ron pack up his toys. That kid is a really useful engine).

I will say it was a great, encouraging surprise that the kids not only transitioned smoothly to our new home-away-from-home, but bunked down in the living room, side-by-side, without a fuss. Clearly it is some kind of cosmic payback for the untimely loss of my beloved handheld.

Onward...

The Girls

I am blessed to know some truly wonderful women, some for a very long time. These lovely ladies have been my pals since my days at USC. Before husbands and babies and the responsibilities of adult life became paramount, we used to vacation regularly (we're told our memory lingers on the island of Chebeague in Maine where we drank a lot of wine and kept the lobster men very busy....fishing).

We gathered recently in NYC for a quick girly fling before Family Smith Barnes heads across the pond. While I'm sure I can entice them to share a girls' weekend in say...Paris before our eventual return, it was so fun to be with them and recapture a little of that carefree time we used to enjoy (dinner at Shun Lee and the Van Cleef & Arpels exhibit at the Cooper-Hewitt National Design Museum, a must-see if you dig bling or fancy yourself a spiritual member of the Sex and the City pack.)

Thank you girls!

Fort Washington

One of our favorite hangouts.

My Day

Mom really enjoyed her day. Big sloppy kisses to my precious children, my loving husband (who makes a mean goat-cheese egg white omelet) and aunty Skippy, for sharing a picnic lunch with us.

Cheerio!

One of the first things we mentally booked after deciding to move was a goodbye party. We haven't had a cocktail party sans toddlers in years. And how superb it was to host our closest friends for a few hours of bittersweet goodbyes. Lots of tears (mostly mine), friends from far away (thank you Jori) and a incredibly thoughtful gift by the Rosemont Mamas (pictured above), who put together a beautiful album of our time together and a perfect presentation (Missy you rock). Thank heaven cocktail napkins are so absorbent!

It was a terrific evening and we thank everyone for sharing some time with us before we jet off.

In Motion

Our first wave of movers from J. Barber, Brian and Jeremy, arrived before 10 a.m. By the time Charlotte returned from Ballet and Harry from his friend Tucker's, the house was transformed, nearly unnavigable amid a sea of brown boxes. In case you can't tell, that's Slinky dog sitting on the edge of the moving van ala Toy Story's cinematic climax.

Their visit was a testament to how much crap we own. They easily took a quarter of our household to storage, a vault that we won't crack for three years, and short of one sofa, I literally don't think we'll miss a single item. I mean ick!

The kids were super, really great, playing with the crew and the boxes. Mid-afternoon they retreated to the upstairs to have some quiet time (curious george). Charlotte fell asleep in our bed and Harry very politely covered her with blankets, and, in a move only a brother could pull off, placed a HHG (household goods) sticker on her forehead, I presume hoping the movers would take her too.

The Goat Rodeo

And so it began this morning, our journey into the unknown. Highlights have thus far included a week of sleepless nights sorting our worldly possessions into an innumerable number of piles - dump, keep, consignment, give-to-friends, charity, long-term storage, the ironically named "express shipment" and finally...household delivery. Paul and I are now encyclopedically familiar with the contents of our home. Discoveries have been made in every closet (yesterday I found the sheets from my crib that my mother lovingly stored in a box that I've never opened, until now. Soon the shams will be on Charlotte's bed. So no, it's not all bad).

This morning our piano was removed by a very nice crew and driven an hour to our friends' home in Maryland where it will get good use by their twin boys Oscar and Joe. Our kids are not so keen on the process. Charlotte returned from the park to discover the big hole where the lumbering instrument once stood. "Bring back my piano!" she demanded. Harry has been equally flabbergasted by the toy closet that is now empty, it's contents packed into boxes for early shipment. He thinks I'm throwing away his toys because there's no room in England.

While we have talked a lot to the kids about our pending move, we're not exactly sure how to handle tomorrow's invasion of movers. Harry has a play date, Charlotte has ballet, but there is no getting around the fact that the house will be swarmed by crews and trucks for the next five work days. Is it better for them to stay away and suddenly discover an empty house or become further accustomed to the vanishing act that is our furniture? Probably the latter. We'll see.

Charlotte & Reagan

We're going to really miss our friend Reagan, Charlotte's favorite shopping gal-pal. Today they noshed at the Nordstrom Cafe (macaroni and cheese, if you please) and then did a little shoe shopping (we scored a super pair of silver sparkly ballet flats, just like Reagan's), before heading to the carousel for a twirl or two. Many thanks to Regan's mommy Shannon for playing chauffeur to two precious girls and for the super goodbye lunch.

'Meet Me at the Palace'

There could be only one subject of this year's very special ostrich egg paint-a-thon: Paddington. We're very fond of the marmalade-eating bear from darkest Peru.

Petite Ballet

It's after the first 20 minutes of ballet class that Charlotte gets a bit weary of first position and tondus, preferring to prance around the room and cause mischief (Eloise-style). But the payoff is extraordinary if she can just hold out until the close of class when she and other tiny girls get to dress up in costume (so far we've done fairies, Madeline's 12 girls in two straight lines and, be still my heart...princesses).


As the girls flit around the room, their mothers oooooh in synch, cell phones waving as pictures are snapped. I may even like it more than she does. Not the Eloise part, that's rather a drag. But the joy on her face when the utterly-too-big costume is put on, well, that is motherhood heaven.

Eggs-actly

There's so much activity in House Smith Barnes these weeks that Easter seems a long, long time ago. But it was no less fun. In fact, it was Eggs-actly right. Thanks in no small part to the four Easter Egg hunts and the super-fantastic trip to South Carolina to visit a branch of Family Smith. So, no better time than the present to revisit the Eggs, the Bunnies (one of them queerly human), the Candy, oh-so-much candy, the Alligators, the Crabs and the the salty-white beaches of South Carolina.

A big thank you to my aunt and uncle, Blanche and Corky, for hosting us, golfing us, wine and dining us, and giving the kids a weekend they're not likely to forget (thanks to the Golf Cart).

To Boldly Go...

.....when no vacuuming astronaut has gone before.

Hoses at Dawn

Hot weather. Humidity. And a friend's yard, literally awash in hoses, sprinklers, one baby pool and a bunch of running water. Nirvana.

Momi-Pedi

Charlotte accompanied me for a polish change this morning. She was an excellent helper, picking out my color and watching closely. "Are you painting my mommy?" She asked She got some polish of her own before we were done spiffing-up, though nothing improves the look of blurry Gymboree stamps.

Ready or Not....

We love hide-and-seek. And sometimes, we get a competitive edge by peeking. Don't tell Harry.

Inspiration

I hate linoleum. Hate it. But nothing makes a better easel than the floor.

Picky, Picky

Paul and I have worked hard, since Harry was just starting solids, to make sure that he tried all kinds of foods. And, I think, as result, Harry has a decent palate. Or did. But then the toddler food doldrums set in - months of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (easy to pack), gallons of chocolate milk (organic, OK?) and too many pieces of cheese pizza to count.

Paul and I eat a lot of sushi, usually at home, and the kids dine on other things. But then we found ourselves out to lunch. There it was ...sushi. and I wanted it. And damn it, those kids were going to eat it too. Long shot, I know. But really, the longer we keep the kids on a steady diet of PB&J, well, I know in my bones that we're setting a bad precedent.

We sat down expecting the worst. And we got the best our kids had to offer. Charlotte happily ate miso soup, two pieces of salmon sashimi and a piece of scallop nigiri. Harry, who is harder to convince at 4, popped a piece of hamachi in his mouth. And based on his expression, he was either going to barf or chow down. Five minute later he was standing at the sushi bar, placing another order.

It may have helped that we called our meal "dragon food." Regardless, I am SO proud of them!